


friends made (in the strangest ways)

by palateens



Series: CP Rarepair Bingo [1]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: First Meetings, Fluff and Angst, Kill Your Darlings, M/M, Meet-Cute, Mental Health Issues, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Recreational Drug Use, and your heroes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-23 01:10:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14321250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/palateens/pseuds/palateens
Summary: Johnson is this magnanimous legend. He’s as infamous as Alex Berger’s jersey and as ephemeral as the haus ghosts. He never expects to meet Johnson because he honestly isn’t sure he exists.





	friends made (in the strangest ways)

Derek hears a lot of things about the goalie before Chowder. Shitty tells him he was too smart for his own good. Holster says he spent his entire college experience high. Ransom and Bitty have too many anecdotes about him being in the right place at the right time. 

Jack tells him, “He’s the best friend anyone could hope for,” and then never mentions him again. 

Sometimes, when he’s bored and high, he’ll ask Lardo what she thought of Johnson. Most days she’ll scowl and talk about how much he scared the living shit out of her by just... appearing. Some days, though, she gets a sad, forlorn look on her face. Her eyes crinkle and her hands clench around the softest surface near her. 

“He’s a lot, Nurse,” she says one time. “I don’t know... how to explain it. But, it’s better to keep your distance.” 

Johnson is this magnanimous legend. He’s as infamous as Alex Berger’s jersey and as ephemeral as the haus ghosts. Derek writes about him sometimes, spinning stories of a guy so flighty and inconsistent, yet so loved by his friends. He thinks of Johnson in the witching hour when the Haus is creaking and moaning for affection. He writes short stories about every version of Johnson he comes across—the recluse, the joker, the ace, the fool, the center of the known universe. 

At some point, Johnson becomes a concept, a state of mind even, more than a person. He’s something to think about and learn from. He’s a little bit of everything Derek wishes he could be—kinder, braver... more self assured. He never expects to meet Johnson because he honestly isn’t sure he exists. 

So of course the universe has to go and prove him wrong. 

It’s an afternoon in late March. They didn’t make it to the Frozen Four, so the season’s over. Everyone’s a little disappointed, but no one’s surprised. They haven’t made it that far since Jack was in school. Derek’s working on his Spring Break reading for one of his upper level electives when he hears Bitty, Chowder and Tango back from their alcohol run. He hears people chatting excitedly downstairs. 

“Nursey! Get down here, there’s someone you need to meet!” Bitty shouts. 

He puts down his book, realizing that the relatively clear sky has made it hard to focus on his book anyway. Derek cracks his neck before pushing off from the bed. He debates for a second the advantages of putting shoes on if kegster preparations have already started. He decides that slipping on dirty socks is better than nothing and won’t aggravate him if they get sticky or wet. 

He saunters downstairs at a leisurely pace, lingering on his reflection in the hallway for a moment. The first half of his tattoo sleeve was pricey but worth the months he spent saving up for it. Something about immortalizing his favorite galaxy in ink makes him feel more grounded, beautiful even. The forest half of his sleeve would have to wait another year or so. 

He doesn’t know who to expect waiting in the kitchen, but a six foot two brunette with an easy smile and glistening blue eyes isn’t remotely near his expectations. The guy has Chowder and Tango doubled over in laughter as Bitty shakes his head. Bitty sees Derek first, waving him over.

“Derek Nurse, this is John Johnson. He was our team’s goalie before Chowder,” Bitty says as he pushes Derek closer to Johnson. 

_ Johnson _ , he thinks again. This is the infamous Johnson. 

Johnson cracks a smile as he offers a handshake. “Yea that’s me. Nice to meet you, Derek.” 

Derek blushes. “Gotta stop talking out loud like that,” he mutters. 

“Don’t worry, it’s cute,” Johnson says. “So Bits was saying you’re an English major, huh? What’s your concentration in?” 

“Oh, uh, modern poetry with an emphasis on the Harlem Renaissance.” 

“Nice, I did contemporary literature with emphasis on post-Orwellian dystopian rhetoric,” Johnson says. 

“You were an English major?” 

“Yea,” he says cheerfully. “Actually, some of my essays might be in the basement—if you want I could pull them out? There might be some semblance of coherent thought in there.” 

“Definitely,” 

Johnson grins broadly before heading toward the basement door. Derek’s eyes trail after him. 

“I knew y’all would get along,” Bitty says, startling him. “But I didn’t expect you to be so smitten.”

Derek sputters. “Excuse you, smitten? Not even close to true.” 

Tango snorts as he opens the large plastic container they use to make tub juice. “That’s the worst lie I’ve heard all day.” 

“No one asked you, Tangredi,” Derek says 

Tango gives him a sarcastic thumbs up as he pours alcohol into the container. 

Chowder shrugs, opening another bottle of rum for Tango. “He seems like a nice guy.” 

“You just met the dude,” Derek argues. 

“Actually, he’s in my regular Overwatch group,” Chowder says. 

“You never mentioned that.”

“You never asked,” Chowder says. 

Before Derek has the chance to protest, he hears footsteps coming from the basement stairs. 

“Holster owes me a box of firecrackers, but I think I found them,” Johnson says as he puts the cardboard box in his hands onto the kitchen table. 

Bitty wrinkles his nose. “If a single bug comes out of that—”

“You’ll bomb the entire haus, I know,” Johnson says. 

He pulls his keys out of his jeans, using them to slice open the worn out packing tape. Derek steps closer as Johnson rifles through the box brimming with graded essays and the occasional paperweight. A third of the way down the pile, Johnson quirks his lip. He pulls out a few of the papers. 

“I got two papers on how ergodic texts construct horror, and one on the societal influences behind  _ Infinite Jest _ , you in?” 

Derek chuckles. “I think I’m gonna need... to be significantly less sober for either of those topics.”

Johnson smiles like a midsummer afternoon or a faded polaroid. It’s rare and warm, with a sense of gravity that can only come from an understated sense of nostalgia. Johnson feels like someone he’s known forever coming home. 

“We can fix that,” Johnson offers with a suggestive smirk. 

Nursey nods, fighting the urge to lick his lips or start at Johnson for too long. 

They end up in his bathroom, hotboxing as the sun beats down on them through the window. Johnson,  _ Johnny _ , as he tells Derek to call him, is less of an enigma than his team built him up to be. 

Johnny talks about his research, how he’s trying to make it in New York as a writer and comedian, and what he misses about Samwell. Johnny’s hilarious in a way that’s smart instead of offensive. When he gets excited he talks in metaphors and soliloquies. He has an embarrassingly prominent farmer’s tan, even at the end of winter. He talks about worlds he’s traveled to in his dreams and lives he’s built in the pages of his manuscripts. 

Johnny isn’t the recluse, the joker, the ace, or even the fool. But Derek thinks he could still be the center of the known universe, perfectly personified in a queer nerd who grew up in Minnesota. 

They talk for hours, yet it feels like a minute. One flickering moment of unbridled joy and curiosity. Derek gets lost in the fluttering tangle of their shared musings. He finds lives he didn’t know he lived and parts of himself he thought were long dead. 

Maybe it’s the weed talking (it’s probably the weed talking) but the angles of Johnny’s face are perfectly symmetrical, refracting colors he didn’t know existed.  

Johnny straight up giggles, which is when Derek realizes he’s been tracing Johnny’s jawline repeatedly. He blushes, but doesn’t pull away. 

“Sorry,” Derek mutters. 

Johnny shrugs. “Don’t be. You’re the most interesting person I’ve talked to in a while. Maybe ever.” 

Derek snorts. “I doubt that.” 

“It’s true, you’re... you Nursey. You’re so creative and proud of who you are. You’re a better person than I was in college. I can tell you that for sure.” 

“You’re just saying that,” he says, allowing his hand to fall from Johnny’s face. 

“I’m not,” Johnny says with a sad smile. “I wish... fuck I wish I could be more like you.” 

Derek’s jaw goes slack. He’s always imagined Johnny as this being far above humanity. He’s beautiful and intelligent but—but. 

Derek closes his eyes for a moment, trying to sober up a little. When he opens them again, he takes a good hard look at Johnny. 

He’s littered in tattoos. Some of them are intricate and thought provoking, some of them unsightly stick-pokes. His eyes are beautiful, but the bags under them tell Derek he hasn’t slept right in a while. Johnny holds up his hands. Every finger is crooked; once broken and then healed improperly. 

“I was... a fucking idiot in college,” Johnny admits. “I jumped into shit head first. Didn’t really work out well for me.” 

Derek nods, biting his lip as he gingerly grabs Johnny’s hands, inspecting them closely. Despite his better judgement, he kisses every knuckle. When he gets to the pinky on Johnny’s left hand, he realizes it isn’t broken. 

“What happened here,” he asks. 

Johnny hums. “That would be the last stunt I pulled in college... or rather, the last stunt I  _ didn’t  _ pull. Lardo caught me trying to make a zipline from my window to the tree in the backyard. Could’ve broken my neck if it wasn’t for her.” 

“Shit,” Derek says. “That’s why she doesn’t like you.” 

“Can you blame her? I was a liability and a flake,” he says mirthlessly. 

Derek shrugs. “I thought you broke her heart or something.” 

“I probably did. I, uh, wasn’t in the best place my junior year,” Johnny says. “She kinda gave me an ultimatum to get my shit together or she’d get me kicked off the team.” 

“Wow,” Derek says. 

“Yea... it was a smart call. She helped me get the help I needed.” He shrugs. “But you know, once the damage is done... even she did forgive me. She couldn’t trust me.” 

Derek nods. Johnny isn’t perfect. He’s messy and reckless. He’s a good shoulder to lean on when he’s there, but he hasn’t always been. 

“Have you talked to her lately?” 

“No, she wouldn’t want to hear from me,” Johnny says. 

“That’s a lie,” he insists. “She misses you.” 

“You sure?” 

Derek thinks of the pain etched into her face any time Johnny’s brought up, like someone’s spoken ill of the dead. 

“Yea,” Derek says. 

Johnny hums thoughtfully. They sit there for a while. Johnny coaxes him to talk about his life. The thoughts and anecdotes come pouring out of Derek. He wants to share every corner of his life with this person. Maybe it’s just the way Johnny hangs on his every word like Derek’s the most important person in the world. Maybe it’s the misplaced hope that Derek’s found a kindred spirit in a person he’d built up so high in his mind. 

After a while, Derek realizes he knows better. It’s the way Johnny takes him seriously. It’s the way he looks at Derek like created the stars and planets with his thoughts. It’s the warmth of Johny’s hand as it fits gently into his. It’s the way Johnny’s nose scrunches when he laughs. How when he emotes he does it with his entire body. How every inch of his body radiates patience, acceptance, and warmth. 

Johnny isn’t larger than life. He’s a half formed jumble of opinions and experiences, just like Derek. He kisses Derek’s cheek and then apologizes like a nerd for being too forward. 

Derek shakes his head. “Don’t be.” 

Later, he’ll show Johnny the worlds he’s built out of the idea of him. Tomorrow, he’ll probably scrub those characters until they resemble something new, something closer to their own lives and further from the truth. For now, Johnny’s lips hover an inch away from his. 

“Is this alright?” Johnny murmurs. 

“Yea,” Derek says.

It really was. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> fic title - lyrics from Everyone's Summer of '95 by Iron & Wine 
> 
> if you're interested in participating in omgcp rarepair bingo check it out [on tumblr.](https://omgcprarepairs.tumblr.com/rarepair-bingo)
> 
> special thanks to Kat, my lovely beta and part time muse


End file.
